The Other Side of a Limit
by Anpan Roller
Summary: What if Gokudera's mother is wasn't dead? What if he had a happy family? How will he turn out? How will that affect the people he meets? A typical weird high school romance story, with not-so-typical partners. 8059; bad language courtesy of Gokudera
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: I have INSPIRATION again! And it came at 4 a.m. when I couldn't bring myself to sleep. XD

So in this story, I will be imagining Gokudera as he is if his mother was the legal wife of well, his father, and is still alive. And therefore, Gokudera will be super OOC! At least in the first few chapters. Bear with me please!

Please enjoy!

* * *

The firm handshake almost left Tsuna's young hands bruised. The strong grip from the Italian man definitely suited his tall physique and broad chest though. "I am glad to have the chance to work together with the Vongola clan," the man stated.

"Ah, yes, me too. It is an honour, sir," Tsuna replied, not quite calmly, secretly hoping he would cease the handshake now.

Reborn, perched on Tsuna's narrow shoulder, discreetly raised his hand and plucked a strand of Tsuna's hair for punishment, resulting in a sudden yelp from the Tenth Vongola.

"Anything the matter?" the other boss asked, a little curious.

"Ah, no-nothing!" Tsuna shook his head and waved his hands to emphasize his point. Then his lips curled up in an unsightly--but thankfully microscopic--manner, hissing, "what was that for, Reborn!"

"Speak properly. The way you are doing it nobody will treat you seriously and think that you are a pushover. Do you have the resolve to carry the burden of the downfall of the Vongola your ancestors worked so hard to build on your shoulders?"

Tsuna gave a long, silent sigh. Reborn had arranged for this so-called meeting of goodwill with the family in Italy to build up good relations, and although Tsuna was thrilled to be able to take an aeroplane, it was still a dreadful procedure. He had tons of scripts to memorise and had to research endlessly on the clan's background and had to learn some basic Italian greetings from Reborn as well. Plus, it wasn't exactly pleasant to be stuck on the other side of the world with a hitman who threatens to shoot you every second of the day.

"Ah yes," the man said suddenly, breaking Tsuna out of his recollections. "I would like you to meet my son. He should be around the same age as you, Sawada-san."

Tsuna's gaze followed to where the other boss's hands were pointed towards. As if on cue, a boy with a mob of silver hair tied up neatly in a ponytail strode out of the room facing the stairs. The bespectacled boy's eyes seemed glued on a book in front of him, as he fluidly closed the door behind him without any sound. He collectedly walked down the flight of stairs, pushing up his glasses and flipping the page with much interest. It was then that he realised the people in the guest room were staring at him, and he paused and looked up.

"Hayato!" his father called out. "Come here and greet our guests."

The said boy quickly carefully slid a bookmark into the book and shut it delicately. He marched down the remaining steps with an air of elegance, and finally over to where the people are seated. A light but polite smile shone on his lips as he gave a deep bow, from what he had read from Japanese culture books, greeting, "pleased to meet you, sirs."

"Pleased to meet you too, Gokudera Hayato," Reborn replied effortlessly, while Tsuna fumbled with the same sentence in a more hurried manner, and eventually receiving another hair-plucking torture from the Arcobaleno.

The proud man gave his son a good pat on the back, introducing, "These are our guests from the Vongola family, Hayato. The gentleman here is the tenth boss of Vongola."

"I see," Gokudera positioned his glasses again. "I have heard a lot about you, Sawada Tsunayoshi-san." The smile remained etched on his lips as he shook hands with Tsuna. Tsuna realised that the son's grip was surprisingly more relaxed than the father's.

Gokudera's father gave a deep, throaty laugh. He continued, "well then, Sawada-san. For our first collaboration, I would like Hayato here to understand about Japan's culture."

"Ah, s-sure! I will gladly tell him about how life's like in Japan and stuff-"

"Hahaha..." the man interrrupted Tsuna's sentence with another rather refined laughter. "I was meaning to say, that Hayato be sent to Japan for a period to study your respected country's culture."

From the corner of his eyes, Tsuna noticed Gokudera's lips twitched, just a little. But with Reborn by his side, and his tiny fingers ready at the back of his head, he was in no position to reject the request either.

And so, a weird story about an exchange student in Japan began.

* * *

"Woah, an Italian?" Yamamoto exclaimed.

"No, Yamamoto. Actually, Gokudera-kun's half Italian and half Japanese," Tsuna corrected him for the fifth time that morning.

Yamamoto's eyes were wide with excitement. "Why is he coming here?" he enquired.

Tsuna looked around suspiciously, before whispering in a hushed voice, "Because, the boss of that family in Italy wants his son to come here for some cultural exchange."

"Then what is he like?" Yamamoto's eyes were practically shining with delight.

Tsuna thought for a while, recalling. "Hm, he looks like the kind who reads a lot of books and intensively, but he is also very polite and courteous. I think people will like him," his shoulders then dropped. "Although I doubt we will be able to keep up with his intelligence."

"Hahaha!" Yamamoto laughed, a little louder than usual today. He patted his friend's shoulders for comforting. "Cheer up, Tsuna! Look on the bright side!"

Tsuna looked at Yamamoto's jovial expression and smiled. "Thanks, Yamamoto. You're right, maybe Italy's education and Japan's are different, right?" he suggested, delusionising himself.

Yamamoto's eyebrows lifted up and his mouth formed an 'O' shape. "Woah, an Italian?"

Tsuna's head slammed onto the table in defeat. Maybe he should just give up already.

The teacher's formidable presence was sensed by the trained students of the class when he walked in and everybody, including Yamamoto, scurried back to their seats. After the customary greetings, the teacher finally introduced the new exchange student.

"This is Gokudera Hayato. He is from Italy, and will be your new classmate from now on," the teacher announced, nodding at Gokudera to make a brief introduction.

Gokudera gave a deep bow. He straightened up and had the same mild but awfully polite smile on his face, speaking with clear articulation, "pleased to meet you. I am Gokudera Hayato. Please guide me along the way."

The boy, now without his glasses and having his hair let down, faced the sudden gust of ear-piercing shrieks of the girls in the class with unbelievable composure and kept that persistent, tight-lipped smile in place.

"He's so gentlemanly, how wonderful!"

"Wow we have an English student in our class! And a hot one too!"

"Hey is Italy even in England? Kyaa he's so moe~!"

"......Who cares? He's hot!"

Gokudera concluded that this phenomenon must be the notorious fangirls known exclusively to Japan's culture.

"Well then," the teacher started, picking his ears to make sure they're still intact and working, "Gokudera-kun, you can take the place behind Yamamoto. Morita-san, and the row behind, would you mind shifting one seat back to accomodate Gokudera-kun?"

Gokudera bowed once more and thanked the teacher and his classmates with such civility everybody couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of Italians' upbringing. Once Gokudera took his place Yamamoto immediately whipped his head around to face him. "Nice to meet you, I'm Yamamoto Takeshi," he grinned.

The second Yamamoto's eyes fell on the boy, he noticed he couldn't quite take his eyes off him. There was something strongly charming about him that Yamamoto could not quite grasp. It was as if his gaze was glued onto him. Watching him move with every step was a pleasure for Yamamoto, a relaxing feeling that soothed him. Of course, he was overjoyed when Gokudera was assigned to sit behind him. So this is how it feels like to have foreign friends!

Gokudera flashed a smile that reached his eyes, a display of his sincerity. "Good morning, Yamamoto-san. Nice to meet you," he stuck out his pale hand.

Yamamoto beamed and grabbed the hand in the name of basic courtesy, and found himself unable to tear away from the skin. The boy's hand was so smooth and tender it seemed as if it breaks very easily, like a delicate china. His hand was a piece of art as well. He had such long and slender fingers Yamamoto almost felt his heart skip a beat for no apparent reason. He couldn't quite take away his hand now.

"Um, Yamamoto-san. Yamamoto-san," collected words drifted into Yamamoto's consciousness. Having regained normality, he immediately let go of the hand, uttering a sheepish apology.

"It's okay, Yamamoto-san. I look forward to being your classmate," Gokudera gave a quick bow before proceeding to retrieve his stationery from his exquisite leather bag.

"Ah, it's alright. You can just call me Yamamoto!" Yamamoto informed, grinning his megawatt smile at him.

Gokudera made sure to make eye contact with his new classmate, and replied, "oh, I believe that would be rude of me, Yamamoto-san. I can't-"

"It's alright! I don't mind! Hahaha!" Yamamoto chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Everybody I know calls me that! There's no need for formalities here!"

Despite being slightly put off by him for interrupting, an assured smile still formed on Gokudera's face. "Well, then, if you wish, Yamamoto-s- I mean, Yamamoto." He chuckled slightly at the blunder, hoping the other party would find that interesting too.

In accordance, Yamamoto sniggered. "So, what club activities are you intending to join?"

Gokudera's eyes darted towards the blackboard, where the teacher begun writing formulas for the lesson that was starting. "Club activities? What are those?" he enquired in a soft voice, careful not to garner unnecessary attention.

"Ah, they are just clubs and societies of where people who like the same thing gather and-"

By then the teacher had already started the lesson proper, requesting students to flip to specific pages of the textbook. And truth be told, as much as Gokudera tried to, the sensible part of his brain censored everything Yamamoto was babbling about right now, while Gokudera nodded discreetly to fake interest. It was a very uncivilised thing to do, but he had no choice.

"So do you have any in mind?" Yamamoto finally ended his speech which no one was listening to.

"Well," Gokudera whispered, putting on his glasses and peering through the lens at the Japanese. "I've not decided yet. Which one are you in, Yamamoto? Oh, and Yamamoto, the class has started-"

"Oh, I'm in baseball," Yamamoto continued. "I love baseball you see, so I-" Obviously the last sentence was ignored, whether on purpose or due to stupidity it was unknown.

Gokudera found himself sighing mentally. Don't Japanese notice hints? He really wished to pay attention to the lesson and solve algebraic problems, not listen to a baseballer talk about his life story, although he didn't mean any offense. But of course, it would be impolite to not attempt to carry on a conversation. So the only thing he could do with at the mean time was ask questions that would generate short answers, but apparently, it was futile in this case. As he had deduced earlier on, and his deductions were always spot-on, this respected fellow classmate was a sports person, and therefore, gathering from most of the books he had read, belonged to a group termed 'idiots'. But then again, idiots are still people of the world, no matter how primitive, and it would be only right to treat them politely as well. Afterall, idiots still have their dignity.

And so, the lesson carried on, with Yamamoto chattering on and on and miraculously going undetected by the teacher, while Gokudera was nodding at intervals to feign interest but unknowingly spewing mental acidic insults at him. Observing all these from the side, Tsuna was glad that they were getting along well.

* * *

A/N: (Gah I just realised that if Gokudera's mother was lawfully wedded to his father, then Bianchi would cease to exist. Oh well, I'll have to figure out some way to squeeze her in then.)

Sorry it was so short for the first chapter. I was intending to put up 2 chapters first but it is getting late and I'm so sleepy I'm dreaming about Squalo in wheelchair as I type. XD

So this shall be my first 8059 multi-chapter story. It will be short but I hope you guys liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks for reading! :D

I'm still unsure when to capitalize letters in a speech and stuff. Any generous help will be greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Chapter Two! Let's see if I still have the stamina to write up another chapter. Anyway, I hope this chapter is at least more decent than the first one! And thank you everyone for the alerts and reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

That afternoon Tsuna and Yamamoto collectively managed to drag Gokudera around Namimori shopping district after school. Gokudera was planning to spend his time finishing his homework and revising at home, but he figured it would be rude to reject his hosts' offers, and thus obligingly tailed along.

In that few hours he discovered the exquisite taste of takoyaki and got a chance to try out the famous sushi of Japan in Yamamoto's shop. It took some convincing from Tsuna and Yamamoto that it was perfectly fine to snack on chocobananas in public, and a little more to nudge Gokudera into the arcade. After which they realised that the civilised citizen do not fare well in virtual fighting games. So they aptly brought him into a century-old bookstore that was almost as large as Takesushi, which Gokudera indulged himself in by purchasing at least ten books from the delighted shopkeeper. All in all, Gokudera must admit he did enjoy himself.

"Farewell, Sawada-san," Gokudera bent over, his heaps of shopping bags--he insisted on using recyclable bags--dangling precariously from his hands. "I thank you for the hospitality today."

Tsuna smiled. "There's no need, Gokudera-kun. After all you are alone in a foreign country, think of it as something for your father!" Then, the Vongola Decimo waved goodbye and returned to his house. Eruptions of screams and laughter eluded from behind the door when it was opened, and was quickly ended as soon as the door was shut.

"Sa," Yamamoto started, resting his hand in his pocket, and turned to Gokudera. "I'll see you around then, Gokudera. I've still got to help my father run some errands, sorry I can't send you home." He flashed an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gokudera looked up at the sudden exclusion of '-san' from his name. Then he remembered that since he was to call his classmate by only his name too, it would be only fair for Yamamoto to do the same. "Ah, please, do not feel apologetic. It is not your fault at all, Yamamoto."

Yamamoto's smile became even brighter. Gokudera is such an interesting person! "Then, see you tomorrow!"

Gokudera bowed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Yamamoto."

"..."

"..."

There was silence for a while.

Gokudera was the first to break the uneasy muteness. "Anything the matter, Yamamoto?"

Yamamoto raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised for a moment. Then he broke into awkward laughter. "Ahhaha! No, nothing! Just waiting for you to leave first, that's all." His eyes were directed upwards.

"I see," Gokudera gave a mild chuckle. "I was waiting for _you_."

Yamamoto laughed even more loudly. "Well then," he said, having recovered from the laughing fit. "I'll get going then."

"I'll be on my way too."

With much reluctance, Yamamoto managed to turn around and part ways with the Italian. He was evaluating Gokudera's exoticness as he strolled down the streets, thinking about how fascinating and different foreigners are. He pondered why Gokudera had silver hair and Dino-san had blond hair even though they're both Italians. Then it struck him that Tsuna and he himself had different-coloured hair too. He laughed mentally at the discovery, amused. Then he thought about how fragile Gokudera looked, with his seemingly bony limbs and porcelain complexion, he wondered if that was how children turn out to be if they grew up in a wealthy family. Gokudera took up so much of his thoughts he almost missed the store he was planning to go to.

Yamamoto stepped out of the shop with the supply of sushi materials he was supposed to get for Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, glad that the shopping took his mind off the Italian for a while. But as fate would have have it, he spotted his new friend just down the street, seemingly stranded in a heap of furniture strewn all over the road.

Concerned, he jogged up to him, greeting, "Gokudera, what happened?" He studied the furniture; they seemed to be new because the plastic wrappings were still there, although they were disorganized.

Gokudera looked up, and flashed a quick, worrisome smile, "Yamamoto! Nice... to meet you here!" He bit his bottom lip at the appropriateness of the sentence. "However I do apologise for not being able to welcome you to my house. It is a little... unprepared at the moment. And I am sincerely sorry about my current state of clothes right now..." He looked down at his tucked out school shirt and loosened tie. Strands of his metallic hair was plastered onto his face along with the sweat trickling down the sides. Then he proceeded to bending down sinking his fingers into the armrest of the leather couch, dragging it along the ground with not much advancement.

"What are you doing?" Yamamoto asked. He quickly put down the bags on his hands and help give the skinny boy a push on the sofa.

"Ah, thank you very much for helping." Cracking an eyelid open from wincing, Gokudera answered, "Well, it seems that I have shamefully forgot that the movers are moving in my furniture today. When I arrived here they got really mad. In addition to that, I realised that I have spent all my money on the food and books today, and had no more to pay them, so they dumped all my belongings here and left."

Yamamoto was bitten by guilt. "Sorry, if we didn't pull you out to shop with us earlier..."

Gokudera breathed out, "No it is not your fault at all, Yamamoto. Heavens forgive me for being so forgetful. I don't understand though, I've never been this careless before."

Yamamoto could tell he was trying to force a smile, but the curve on his lips was so meagre it might as well have been that he never smile at all. Yamamoto replied, "still, I can't help feeling it's my fault for having you move the furniture all by yourself." Honestly, how could they leave such a visibly weak and helpless boy to move all these weighty furniture? "Let me help you out, Gokudera." Yamamoto resorted to heaving up the couch by the armrest as well when they arrived at the foot of the stairs.

Gokudera was so stunned that his grip on the sofa loosened and almost had the leather couch fall onto Yamamoto. "Oh dear me, that would be unthinkable! Please, you are in no obligation to help me out, and it would be a disgrace on my part to have a guest doing the work and-"

"Hey," Yamamoto interrupted. Gokudera was use to the interrupting after a day of being cut off by the teenager now. "Look at it as a thank-you gift for bringing you to the bookstore just now?"

Gokudera blinked at him. A smile tugged at his lips, replying, "then please do accept the gift." Although he understood full well that there was not any need to thank him because truthfully, he, along with Tsuna but the brunette was the Tenth Vongola so that cleared him of any blame, was the one who landed him in this predicament.

Of course he couldn't say that out loud, that would be rude.

The rest of the evening was spent lugging the heavy furniture into the spacious apartment. Yamamoto noticed that the apartment was not very large, contrary to his imagination, although it was still considered a luxury if Gokudera was the only occupant. Both of them figured that it was a good thing they filled their stomachs to the brim while shopping just now, however much of a junk food the snacks they ate were, because they realised that they had a little bit more energy than usual to be able to make those pieces move even one inch.

However, for two 14 year olds, those teak furniture required a whole lot more strength than they could muster. They had an especially bad time lifting the wooden wardrobe off the floor to climb up three storeys, and the refrigerator was another headache. "Thank goodness the bed was moved in earlier," Gokudera attempted to strike up a conversation, heaving a sigh of relief at the same time. Their biggest problem arrived at the last piece of furniture both of them were dreading to even mention - the grand piano. Both of the teens stood there, staring at the magnificently large piano, none of them wanting to make a sound.

"Well," Yamamoto started. "Is that yours, Gokudera?"

Gokudera, nodded limply at him. "Unfortunately, I believe."

"How do you think we can get it through the door then?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Yamamoto tilted his head and scratched his scalp. "Do you think we should saw it into halves?"

"I don't... think that is a good idea..." Gokudera suggested.

"I think so too."

Gokudera continued staring at the instrument, its furnished surface now reflecting the scarlet of the evening sun.

"So." Yamamoto felt the urge to fill the silence.

"Do you suppose it can even fit in the corridor outside the house, Yamamoto?"

"Nope."

"We share the exact sentiments."

"......Do you have any other idea how to get it in?"

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Then let's quickly ask the author to censor this scene and skip to the next one."

"That would be a splendid idea."

* * *

After getting the piano in, somehow, the two boys slumped onto the couch, heaving and panting as if they'd just ran a marathon. Yamamoto, with his head thrown back to rest on the hood of the sofa, observed the inside of the apartment through his narrowed eyes. The apartment did look smaller with the all the chunky furniture taking up most of the space now, and it definitely did look more homely. However, there was something about the bleached whiteness of the walls and plain simplicity of the floor that kept on nibbling at the back of Yamamoto's mind.

"You are going to live alone in this house, Gokudera?" he asked in between pants.

Gokudera lolled his head to the side, too lethargic to bother about courtesy at the moment, and answered breathlessly, "yes."

Yamamoto straightened his spine, sitting straight up and peering at Gokudera. "Won't you be lonely?"

Gokudera thinned his lips as he struggled to get into the same position as his guest, unconsciously knitting his eyebrows in frustration. "Yes, I suppose it would be rather lonely now. But I would consider it a good experience to be independent." At least his voice still sounded dignified.

Yamamoto noticed that Gokudera was sitting very near him, only a few inches away. He could feel Gokudera's suppressed breaths on his mouth as he exhaled. Even though Gokudera's face was wet and sticky with perspiration, even his beautiful hair was adhered to the sides of his head, Yamamoto still found something oddly charming about the Italian.

Oh, that's right. He's often heard people talking about how beautiful foreigners are. Well, he guess it's true then!

Yamamoto grinned. "Well, then I will visit you often to keep you company, Gokudera!" He slung a sore arm around Gokudera's lithe shoulders. "You like my father's sushi don't you? I will bring a big plate of sashimis for you every time I come here!"

Gokudera was rather apprehensive about that, not because of the need to reject his kind offer, but because of his instincts telling him that this person was doomed to bring misfortune whenever he was around. Or more specifically, harass Gokudera to his downfall.

He himself was a bit shocked upon realising his impression of his first friend who helped him out, and silently apologised to him.

"Then I shall accept the generous offer. And thank you very much for today's help, Yamamo-"

Gokudera paused when he saw that the idiot, he meant, his _friend_, had fallen asleep on the couch, jaws wide open and a tiny drop of drool threatening to spill over. A concealed sigh eluded from him, finally having the chance to stop smiling. His muscles were aching even though he had been plugging on fake smiles for others since he was born. Thoughtfully he meticulously lifted the heavy arm off his shoulder and placed it promptly by his side. He uttered yet another apology when he carefully tried to shut his mouth, only to have it hang open again. He shook his head, unbelieving at the prowess of idiots. It is true when they say never underestimate the powers of idiots.

Gokudera got up and rested his hands on his hips, checking his salivating friend who seemed to be in a sweet dream. Well, he, no matter how annoyin- Gosh! He meant concerned and helpful! Yes, he, being concerned and helpful, had done Gokudera a huge favour today and it would be only right to repay the favour. Braving the drowsiness that was settling in, he slipped into fresh change of clothes and headed down to buy ingredients. Then he took the risk of having his flawless face being cooked by boiling oil if he falls asleep while frying the tomatoes, and made what seemed to him delicious delicacies of Italy as a token of gratitude for Yamamoto.

Admittedly, it was much more work than moving the stuff in, because Gokudera was not much of a cook himself. But hopefully this would show sincerity for his (idiotic) friend.

* * *

"I apologise for having you miss dinner with your family today, Yamamoto. I hope this is enough to make it up to you," Gokudera declared, placing the dishes on the table.

Yamamoto beamed like a satisfied child, shaking his head. "It's alright, I've called my father and he said he didn't need the ingredients that fast anyway." He smacked his lips at the sight of the welcoming steam eluding from the appetising-looking food. Wow, he's never tried food made by Italians before, and something made by someone so good-looking must be equally tasty too!

"Itadakimasu!" He scooped up one large chunk of the fish drenched in some scrumptious Italian sauce and sent it straight to his mouth.

Gokudera studied the Japanese's expression worriedly as he chewed on the meat deliberately. He had spent a large amount of time making that dish. He hoped it turned out well. However judging from the way Yamamoto's face was changing, his eyebrows were furrowed as the ends of his lips twitched unfavourably, and not to mention the pale green hue growing increasingly apparent on his face, it did not seem to be the case.

Yamamoto forced the mashed-up meat down his throat. "Haha, Gokudera, that tastes disgusting!"

Gokudera's face fell. He was prepared for this, but couldn't he phrase it in a better-sounding way? He cringed inwardly at the remark, making a mental vow to never make food again, not for retar- he meant, _people_ like him anyway.

After getting out of his strategical (really, he meant revengeful) thoughts, Gokudera noticed the Japanese still devouring the food like a hungry wolf. Curiosity bit him. "If it tastes that bad, Yamamoto, you don't have to eat it. I will not be offended." In all brutal truth, he was.

Yamamoto, gulping yet another mouthful down into his endless pit of stomach, looked up and flashed a smile, with all the unchewed food visible from Gokudera's point of view. "But Gokudera put a lot of heart into making it for me. It would be a waste if I threw away all your hard work wouldn't it?"

Gokudera blinked at him. An unconscious smirk played on his lips. Maybe, idiots aren't all stupid at all. He rapidly withdrew all the offended sentiments.

He learnt the bitter realness of the Power of the Idiots the hard way when Yamamoto gobbled up every dish he made and not leaving any for Gokudera's very hollow stomach.

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, I hope there are signs of Gokudera-ness in there already! It was such a tiring thing trying to balance his polite self and his loud-mouthed self. Sigh.

Thanks to RainbowMushrooms for inspiring me with the term 'idiot-powers'! XD

Well, I hope you guys like it anyway!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Chapter 3! Enjoy!

_

* * *

Dearest Mother,  
I have been fine here in Japan. Sawada-san and his family, and also his schoolmates, have been kindly taking good care of me. I have learnt a lot from them, they taught me well. Japan is a wonderfully lovely place, I hope you will be able to visit this friendly country soon. Please do not worry about me, I am doing very well here, both in terms of school and my mission. I do hope that you are doing just as well in Italy too. I look forward to the day when I return.  
Lovingly, Hayato._

"And after you substitute the_ x_ here with the value from this equation, you get the answer after some simple calculations." The pencil in Gokudera's hand tapped from one point on the notebook to another, illustrating his explanation.

Yamamoto's eyes blinked a few times, in the midst of making sense of the confusing mathematical symbols and formulas on his homework, before spreading a sunshine-happy smile across his face as enlightenment shone upon him. "Oh, I get it, Gokudera!"

Gokudera gave a humble bow, before continuing with checking his homework that he had completed centuries ago--before Yamamoto solved the first five questions at actually.

Yamamoto cackled, "Gokudera always makes difficult things easy! How did you get so smart, Gokudera?"

"No I don't think I am. It's just..." He struggled to find a politically correct word to explain this part without insulting him, well, not directly anyway.

"...the activites I'm involved in, I suppose." Ah, there you go.

But of course, he knew that baseball wasn't entirely to be blamed. Yamamoto's brain was already dense enough on his own, knowing how he became smart was unneccessary. Because this would be a case best described as 'hopeless'.

Yamamoto nodded seriously, brows furrowed and lips puckered, as if actually taking this piece of advice as some tactic he must practise when he returns home. And just as oddly suddenly, his lips cracked apart to let a thick yawn elude out of his throat. Gokudera cringed inwardly at the disgust of smelling the idio-, his_ friend_'s breath.

Rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child, Yamamoto slurred drowsily, "Ah, we've been studying non-stop for hours. Haha, it's even more tiring than baseball!"

Gokudera, very discreetly, secretly, without anybody noticing, pulled an incredulous face. In all his 14 years of the glory of being called a genius he had never come across anything as opaque and unreadable and downright illogical until he learnt of the existence of Yamamoto. He seriously doubted that the athlete's brain was larger than his biceps--which he noticed, due to his superior sense of observation and nothing more, to be nicely toned and surprisingly well-built--and that was alarming.

"Well then, I think we'll take a break now. Does that sound good?" Gokudera suggested, now arranging the messily littered books and papers on the table in front of the couch. Most of them belonged to, who else, the dense friend, some of them belonged to Tsuna who missed these worksheets when he had to leave midway to attend to another family emergency involving the children at home, and only a few belonged to Gokudera himself.

The three met up regularly after school for math tuitions conducted by the Italian, often at the latter's house because it provided the least quiet and most conducive environment. The termly class test was impending. And he needed to help the Vongola Decimo to at least scrape through high school, as instructed by his calculative father. Well, he would have helped Tsuna whenever he can without his father's constant orders actually; he found himself to be especially respectful towards Tsuna, most likely due to the leadership qualities he possessed, unlike some other supposed leaders he knew.

Yamamoto shattered his thoughts when he started speaking, "do you ever play the piano, Gokudera?" Gokudera crashed back into reality to only to see the Japanese nodding at the grand piano. It stood alone near the window drapes, but magnificent and bold enough to command attention to its rightful majestic presence in the room. In all the times Yamamoto dropped by, and that was quite frequent, he had never seen the Italian touch the piano in any way.

Gokudera thinned his lips, presenting a tight-lipped smile, as he replied, "no, I'm afraid not. Because, well, I suppose there just isn't enough inspiration for me to play it."

Or rather, he feared it. Having grown up under the guidance of a pianist mother, music was a sacred thing to him. To him, music was a mirror that scarily portrays accurately his thoughts and feelings. This special bond between the ivory keys and his mental being was akin to a double edged sword; if he was in a pleasant mood, the gratification doubles, if he was feeling foul, similarly the dense melancholy becomes heavier. Normally regardless of his mood he would play it, fluidly, absorbed, for the sake of his mother who enjoyed hearing the notes elude from the string instrument under the guidance of her son's fingers. And knowing that his mother liked it was enough to soothe any negativity he harboured. But at this moment in time, there was absolutely nothing exceptionally noteworthy to be happy about, and sadly, he was aware that he was going through a rather dark phase. Being all alone, he was just afraid, that once he touched those smooth keys, once he connected with the piano, the dam inside him would break.

Yamamoto nodded, a little unconvinced. Shaking his head to dispel unneccesary worries, he then stood up, twisting his back to undo those sore knots in his spine. "You wouldn't mind if I sleep on your couch, would you, Gokudera?" he asked. Then, in a revoltingly uncivilised manner, stretched his leg over the narrow table over to Gokudera's side, and in another leap landed on the black leather couch. All without waiting for an answer from him, obviously whether he asked for permission or not was redundant.

"Yes, you may," Gokudera answered, the ends of his smile twitching.

Yamamoto laid on the couch, burying his nose into the material that smelt like it was new. Sandwiched in between the distinct and crisp smell of leather was the recognisable scent of Gokudera. It was that fresh, clean smell that came from an overdose of soap on his slender body, the refreshing scent of his shampoo Yamamoto sometimes secretly took in when he slung his arm around his shoulder, and oddly, the very, very, mild smell of some charred and burnt powder and smoke. Yamamoto deduced it must have come from Gokudera's father, since in the game, Tsuna said that Gokudera's family was mafia-centric.

He hoped these smells made his dream a sweet one.

* * *

In the mist of nothingness a tiny sliver of melody weaved into his senses. As it infiltrated more and more of his unconsciousness the amplitude increased, and so did the bell-like clarity of the tune. It... sounded like some piano music. It carried the melody of something he had never hear before, but it was a rhythmic tune, something easy to catch the beat of. Yet, it was a slow-paced song, and listening to it seemed to twist his heart muscle in some aching ways. It wasn't a violent sort of wrenching, but rather, a gentle, even more so painful, squeeze. Suddenly he realised his chest was feeling sore.

Gokudera's graceful fingers danced like a graceful dancer across the snow white keys, occasionally tapping on the charcoal black ones. His body unconsciously swayed with him with every note, immersing himself fully into the melody, letting him drown in the melody. There was not a score to refer to, all these came from somewhere in the recesses of his mind. He wasn't even sure if such a piece existed.

There was no one standing beside the piano, looking down at him, smiling a radiant smile that emitted an aura of lovingness. How long had he not hear her beautiful voice that resonated with a motherly tinkle? How long had he not seen her graceful face? It wasn't the same through the phone, the static and digitalisation of it all killed the warmth in her voice. It wasn't the same through the video conferences either, her exotic and pure beauty was marred by the pixelation on the monitor.

And so, he poured all these longing, these selfish desires, onto the keys, letting them seep into the tune. Varying between pressing hardly and softly on the piano, he fused with the soul of the music. All these; the emotions he tried to keep behind a dam. How embarassing would it be, to let anyone hear this. He never intended to face it at all, hoping to keep them safely hidden until the day he returns to his homeland. And yet, one word from that baseball idiot--ah whatever, it's not like he could read his thoughts anyway, so long as he doesn't say it out loud--miraculously made him snap a piece of string that was meant to restrain himself.

Suddenly, a large palm wrapped its fingers around Gokudera's wrist, wrenching it off the keys. The music stopped. Gokudera winced, startled. "Wha-?"

He looked up to face Yamamoto, an unusually grim but concerned expression on his face. His grip on Gokudera's wrist was as strong as it ever was. "Stop playing, Gokudera."

Gokudera, tensing every muscle in his body to restrain himself from performing barbarically violent actions on the boy, asked with knitted eyebrows, "pardon me? Why do you-?" _Patience, patience, patience_, he chanted, _patience with the civilian_.

"You're sad, Gokudera. I... I don't know how, but I can tell from you playing the piano that you are very sad. And playing the piano seemed to me made you even sadder," Yamamoto explained in a soft tone. "So stop it, it'll just make you more depressed. And doing that isn't the only way to lift you out of your depression, Gokudera."

Gokudera's eyes widened slightly at him. How, just how, was he able to understand his emotions? The melody he was playing, it was something very mild and subtle, he was very sure. So, how? Unless, Yamamoto isn't really that much of an idiot...? He had to grit his teeth secretly to prevent his body from going out of control and pumelling up the teenager for unreasonably understanding him. On the other hand, it wasn't very pleasant being called 'sad' thrice, by an idiot nevertheless.

Yamamoto released the grip around his bony wrist, and bent down to wipe his thumb across his cheek. Hang on, when did those tears...? Yamamoto smiled at him, lightening the atmosphere immediately. "I'm sorry can't keep you from feeling homesick. But, I hope at least I can be here to make you feel happier."

"I... I'm not homesick, Yamamoto. I'm just..." He ran out of excuses. He was always full of good and believable excuses. Why not now? Gokudera ran his hand over his hair, roughly at first, and finally smoothly when he remembered the background of his upbringing.

Yamamoto said, "not just me. There's my father, and Tsuna, and Tsuna's mother, and the children in Tsuna's house, and Senpai, and Hibari, and Rokudo Mukuro, and... and Doctor Shamal, and..." Yamamoto paused to try to recall more people, but gave up when he couldn't. "Ahaha," he laughed. "Anyways, we'll all be here to make you feel more comfortable in Japan, we'll drown your homesickness. So there shouldn't be a reason you should feel sad, Gokudera!"

Gokudera didn't know what to make of his idiocy--was it a blessing or was it a curse. And more importantly, was it good to be around idiots or an unfortunate event. Either way, perhaps finding joy in others' misery was a sinful method of keeping his spirits up. For one, he was glad that he was not an idiot.

Although he _does_ owe him one now. He had been taught since young to not forget your benefactors. So that day, he pushed Yamamoto through more intense arithmatic tuition, and unintentionally killing the remaining of Yamamoto's limited intelligence.

_Dearest Mother,  
I have been fabulous here in Japan. I made very good friends here. I must admit, some of them are quite special. It makes my visit even more so interesting. I have been playing the piano diligently. I must thank you once more for specially arranging my piano to be flown over here. I do appreciate the gesture very much. Please do not worry about me, I am doing very well here, both in terms of school, my mission and social life. __While I hope to see your loving face soon, I am starting to really enjoy my stay here. I hope you will reply soon.  
Lovingly, Hayato_

* * *

**A/N**: Another chapter! Well, I hope Gokudera's been expressed well enough in this chapter. It was so tiring balancing him, I'm starting to regret doing this. XS Anyway! I hope you guys liked it! Reviews are very much welcomed!

(Has anybody realised my Gokudera is turning into a British? Oops.)


	4. Chapter 4

Gokudera started to grow accustomed to the life in Japan after staying for a little more than a week. His relationship with Tsuna already had its firm foundation laid too; he was invited to lunch on the rooftop with him and almost everyday after school for tuition.

Although, most of the time these chances are made possible with the help a certain idiot's suggestion.

_During lunch:_

_"My dad made extra sushi today, and I don't think Tsuna and I can finish it all by ourselves. Come for lunch with us, Gokudera!"_

_"But Yamamoto, you brought only one bread today..."_

_"Haha, it's sushi-flavoured, Tsuna!"_

_Gokudera, for a split-second there, thought his brain was a piece sushi too._

_After school:_

_"Tsuna, Gokudera and I were wondering if we can pop by your house to do our homework today. It's due tomorrow, so the faster we finish it the better!"_

_Wait, he was wondering with him since when?_

_"Sure Yamamoto, but tomorrow's a Saturday."_

_"Haha! That means no student meals from WacDonalds' tomorrow doesn't it? We can still eat at my dad's place if you guys like!"_

_Gokudera swore, that if you asked about his hair colour, he would have told you why octopusses taste better than lamps._

_In the middle of the night, at three a.m., in the morning, when no sane soul was awake, in the middle of a sweet dream involving parfaits:_

_"Hello?"_

_"Hello? Gokudera? I was just wondering, if you'd like to come over to Tsuna's tomorrow afternoon to play the mafia game."_

_"You fuc- I mean, yes, yes that would a pleasure, you basta- Yamamoto."_

_"Okay, great! Now all I have to do is ask Tsuna whether we can go over. But ah, I guess I should do that later shouldn't I, he's probably asleep now, don't want to disturb him!"_

_And Gokudera's sweet, sweet, diabetic dream of parfaits turned into one of salmon sushis trying to swin upstream._

Gokudera had to shake his head at the thoughts of these nightmare-like flashbacks.

"You herbivore over there," a voice came, interrupting his, uh, head-shaking moment.

Gokudera turned around to see a boy, a little taller than him, stroll over to his side by the window with an air that commanded authority. "No loitering in the hallways, especially during lunch. Do you wish to be bitten to death?"

Hibari Kyoya. The name popped up in his sea of thoughts immediately. The strict, fierce, and power-hungry prefect who allowed not even a piece of tissue off when it breaks the littering rule--Gokudera witnessed for himself the cruel dismembering of the two-ply tissue fibre by fibre--had his eyes locked on him. As a new exchange student here, it wouldn't be very good to leave a bad record, Gokudera decided, and thus quickly apologised. "I'm sorry, senpai, I didn't know that. I shall return to my class immediately."

He could feel Hibari's burning glare on him as he walked back to class. The annoying aura of arrogance surrounding the senior tingled his nerves a little, just a little, but he had enough sense not to scrunch up his face in irritation and fling a deserving punch at him.

"Um, Go-Gokudera-kun," the high-pitched voice of two squirming girls who suddenly appeared in front of him stopped him in his tracks. "Pl-Please accept this!" One of the girls stretched out her hand, a pink slip of paper decorated with hand-drawn hearts held onto tightly.

Another love letter. He had been receiving quite a lot from the girls recently. Japanese girls are really more outgoing than he imagined. Although he was not really interested in relationships at the moment, he figured it would be only polite to accept the letter. "Thank you," he smiled and raised both his arms to take it.

He felt his cheekbone being cracked open, as he was suddenly threw to the side and skidded across the floor. Why, of all times, must Japanese school's hallway floors be so squeaky clean?

Screams and stares accompanied his flight. When Gokudera got up he noticed a fresh blood stain on his shirt. He wiped his mouth to confirm his suspicion of a bleeding nose. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly to look up at the culprit, "What was that for, Hibari-senpai?"

The skylark's shadow fell over Gokudera's body. "Loitering in the hallways."

Gokudera hissed as he got up and brushed his shirt. An emerging frown was evident on his face. "I was returning to my class, it's just that the girls stopped me and-"

"That's right," Hibari cut his sentence short, like he was an inferior being not worth listening to. He pivoted around and marched towards the shocked girls, raising his tonfa in a svelte manner under his black coat. "No loitering in the hallways, I'll bite you to death."

Hibari swiped his merciless tonfa down, only to have his arm grabbed suddenly by someone. Instinctively he swung his other tonfa at whoever it was, and began engaging in a fight with the intruder who interrupted his feast on his prey.

"Hibari-senpai," Gokudera reasoned, in a tone that was similar to shouting, "I believe it is wrong to hit girls." He dodged another strike of the cold metal.

"Oh? That wasn't in the rules, and therefore it is okay to," Hibari replied, in a collected manner despite his relentless swipes at the Italian.

Gokudera gritted his teeth, "Well, it should be, senpai." Darn it, the prefect's attacks are so well-kneated there wasn't a chance for him to reach for his dynamites. He could only keep backing, and soon there wouldn't be anymore space to step back to.

Hibari raised his eyebrow, as if hesitating for a very small while. Gokudera's battle instincts kicked to life and he stole the chance to throw his leg up and sweep across, kicking Hibari's arms and pushing them away. Seeing that he had the upperhand now, even if it's for a short period, Gokudera quickly flung his fist forward. It reached just the tip of Hibari's nose while he threw his head back to dodge, when Gokudera remembered that violence in school is greatly frowned upon.

He swiftly retracted his knuckles and gave a bow sportsmen always give after the end of a match. Hibari flipped back into his fighting stance again, as he asked menacingly out of curiosity, "Why did you not hit me?"

"It is wrong to fight in school, senpai," Gokudera answered, "I'm sure you know that too." Inside, he was hoping he'd notice the sarcasm.

Hibari paused, as a face of contemplation formed. This kid is... interesting. "Are you the new Italian student?"

"Yes, senpai, I am. Pleased meet you." Gokudera rolled his eyes mentally as he said, "Fantastic meeting."

Hibari's eyes scanned Gokudera up and down, in what seemed like hours. Was he going to fight, or was he going to let him go? The small crowd that had formed around them was whispering among themselves on the outcome.

Finally, Hibari's expressionless face was marred by a smirk. "You're an interesting kid. The Disciplinary Committee can use someone like you. You know where to report to," Hibari ordered as he turned around to walk away, parting the crowd like the red sea as he did.

Gokudera blinked after the prefect. He was perplexed, because really, he didn't know where to report to.

* * *

"Gokudera-kun! I heard Hibari-san wanted you to be in the Disciplinary Committee?" Tsuna exclaimed as soon as the threesome stepped out of school.

Gokudera held on to his bag strap as he answered, "Yes, he did, Sawada-san. I apologise for not reporting earlier."

"Hibari wants you in the Disciplinary Committee?" Yamamoto's shocked face popped out from beside him.

"Yes, I believe I just answered that, dumbas- Yamamoto."

"Are you going to join then?" Tsuna asked, his eyes wide with concern.

"Is it possible to reject?"

Tsuna stared at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated. "Well, it's possible but..." It would involve a lot of persuasion, some heavy bites to death from Hibari and possibly the entire crew of the Disciplinary Committee, and perhaps the demolition of the rest of his school life. "...it's a little hard."

"It is a good idea for training, Gokudera Hayato," a child-like voice came from Tsuna's back.

"You think so, Reborn-san?" Gokudera asked, his decision starting to waver. It would do his family proud, indeed.

"Hibari is one of the most powerful Guardians in our clan, it would do you good to receive some training from him." Reborn stated.

Gokudera gave a silent, long sigh. He turned to Yamamoto, although he knew that the idiot wouldn't be of much help, it would be polite to assure him that his graced presence was acknowledged anyway. "What are your opinions, Yamamoto?"

The Italian almost thought that his thoughtful gesture surprised the idiot, because he saw Yamamoto speechless for a while. His gaze seemed to be unsteady, his eyes were gliding everywhere, but Gokudera could feel it was all over him. For the first time in his life, Gokudera felt some sort of self-consciousness. But, this is what most people would feel if a brainless salmon posing as an overgrown teenager was staring at them like that.

"......Well?"

Yamamoto closed his mildly parted lips, as he lowered his head in an attempt to hide his face. He ruffled the his hair, and he answered, as Gokudera noticed, quite unenthusiastically. "I-If Gokudera wants to join, then you should." He then looks up to force an empty laughter.

Somehow, that bothered Gokudera for the entire night that day.

* * *

For the past two days, Gokudera had been careful to avoid any sort of rule-breaking, or more specifically the fierce skylark. Tsuna and Yamamoto noticed and also understood Gokudera's uneasiness too, afterall, they were sure he was someone who required no influences whatsoever on making a decision. So on their way to the rooftop, they kept mum about the incident, and tried their best to obey whatever rules there was.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi." Speak of the devil.

Tsuna shakingly turned around and smiled nervously at Hibari, "Ye-Yes?"

Hibari raised a tonfa at him, which resulted in a "hiee!" from the brunette. "The baby says he is going to have a fight with me, and told me to find you for him. Where is he?"

"What!" Tsuna hated it when Reborn went about making decisions on his own. And he hated it worse when it involved him being put through rigorous and painful torments. He secretly shot an apprehensive Gokudera a look, and relented, "Okay, I'll bring you to where Reborn is." Looks like he'll have to miss lunch today. As he led Hibari away, he shouted over his shoulder to the two mafias, "I'll meet you at the rooftop, you guys go ahead!"

Hibari seemed to have finally noticed Gokudera's minor presence, and dumped him an intimidating glare, "Gokudera Hayato. If it's the crowding you're hung up on, Kusakabe had arranged for you to be a high rank." He bored another dirty look at Yamamoto. "You know what is the right choice."

Gokudera nudged Yamamoto away from him. The further apart they were the better. He didn't notice Yamamoto's gaze at his shadow on the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

The two ate silently throughout most of their meal. Both were too drowned in their own worries to realise the other's muteness.

"Gokudera," Yamamoto finally spoke, leaning against the wired fence, and staring at the azure sky. "Are you going to join the Disciplinary Committee?"

Gokudera nibbled on his piece of melon bread. "I'm not sure either."

"Well, the kid said you can train yourself if you're there, that's good isn't it?"

"True, but..."

Yamamoto turned his head to look at Gokudera's silver hair covering his eyes. "But?" Some flash of hope flickered inside him for a moment, like he was hoping desperately for Gokudera to say something he didn't even know what it was that he hoped for.

"Well, I like spending time with Sawada-san and you, Yamamoto. I am afraid that being in the Disciplinary Committee will not allow me that kind of freedom." It was an embarassing thing to say, especially to the idiot.

"You will still see us, Gokudera, just, maybe not as much. But we'll still sit near each other in class!" Yamamoto did not know why he felt the need to explain this. He could have just let Gokudera say 'no I won't join', and end it all there.

Why, oh why was he confessing all these to an idiot?! "It's not that kind of see, Yamamoto. I mean, to actually spend time eating and laughing and talking to you all."

"What about it being part of your training?"

Training. Training to be a top mafia, it wasn't his dream, it was never his dream. His dream, was to become a pianist, and live peacefully in a decent little house, something that was not lavish or grand would do just fine, with his mother, and possibly a beautiful wife and delightful children.

Training to be top mafia, it was his father's dream. To be born in a family with such sinfully charred history, it wasn't something he asked for. Everything he did for the mafia, it was for his father. Because he knew, secretly behind that facet of a husband, was a thousand snipers waiting to fire should any wrong be committed. It was like taking his mother an indirect hostage everyday for the past 14 years. His mother might not detect anything, but all these malicious plots were seen through by the genius.

And after all these years of forcing himself to abide by the man's rules, it would do some good to not follow it and do something for himself, would it?

"Then," Yamamoto quickly grabbed Gokudera's shoulders firmly, shaking him like a light piece of wood, "Gokudera, can I make a selfish request and ask you to not join?"

Gokudera stared wide-eyed at him, his emerald green orbs surveying the teenager. He had always made selfish requests anyway, why be so formal now? Although, it is not too late to pick up some formalities.

Yamamoto continued, acknowledging the silent reply of astonishment, "When I asked you that just now you seem very troubled. It seemed to me that the training wasn't something you enjoy, so if you don't like it, then don't join! You should do whatever you like. It's... It's as simple as that, Gokudera."

Gokudera did feel insulted at being lectured as though he was the dumb one. But then again, the idiot's words made sense. If he didn't like training then don't join, it really should be as simple as that, shouldn't it?

But this is the world of mafia. Nothing's ever simple.

"It's... It's not that, Yamamoto..."

The loud banging of the door pierced the air. Both boys whipped their head to notice a mob of older teenagers clad in neat, black uniform and odd synanamous quiffs scuffle onto the rooftop, surrounding them.

"Gokudera Hayato," one of the teenager said, his sunglasses reflecting Gokudera's face. "The Head has ordered us to ask for an answer to his proposal."

Yamamoto let go of his grasp as Gokudera replied confidantly, "Can you kind people perhaps give me a little more time to think about it?"

The teenager, perhaps the leader of the mob, said, "The Head has given you three days. He said that after three days, if you're still unable to produce a reply, we'll decide for you."

With that, a swift kick from the leader knocked out the bread in Gokudera's hands. Gokudera immediately leapt up to sweep his feet across the floor, tripping the attacker.

"Kusakabe-senpai!" One of the underlings yelled, and rushed forward, while the rest charged towards Gokudera at the command of Kusakabe.

It seemed like there was a vast difference in power between the Disciplinary Committee and their head; Gokudera found that he could defeat them quite effortlessly. Of course, it was not without the help of Yamamoto, who was responsible for defending from Gokudera's vulnerable sides like his back.

"We are going to help you decide if you are going to join us," Kusakabe stated concludingly, as he dashed forward for another round of fighting.

Gokudera grabbed a wrist and twisted it around, turning the owner's body along and slamming him to the floor. "That would be a violation of the liberty of an individual, senpai."

The rooftop was a scene of entangled limbs, forming bruises and some spots of blood. While they had the advantage in terms of capability, the Disciplinary Committee far outnumbered them by many times, and that alone seemed almost enough to compensate for their lack in abilities. Gokudera and Yamamoto were starting to get exhausted.

After what seemed like days, only half of their men was down, and that was only their less abled ones. "It appears that the upper ranks come later," Gokudera analysed.

While they were still not as frighteningly intrusive like Hibari, the numbers were simply too important a statistic in the fight. Should he use the dynamites? But that would destroy the place, and that is not a nice thing to do.

"Boom!" The dazzle of the bomb in the sky, along with its thunderous call, caught the enemy's attention. They shifted their focus on Gokudera.

"You do not want me to use that, fellow schoolmates," Gokudera panted, his face bruised and dirtied and shirt almost torn.

"Che! Trying to scare us with fireworks?" One of them scoffed.

Gokudera gritted his teeth as he was left with no choice. Yamamoto saw Gokudera pull out long sticks of ignited dynamites from out of nowhere on his body. How, just how, did he do that? Toys are getting really advanced nowadays!

"Pardon my rudeness, but..." He flung those at the gang of black-clothed people, resulting in heavy and thick smoke spurting from blasts. He assessed the situation before fishing out another obscene number of dynamites, setting them alight all at one go.

He raised his arm, ready to throw, and he faltered. "Wha-?" He felt his head getting lighter, as the world started to spin uncontrollably around him. His weakened leg started to give out. His fingers felt numb, not even sensing anything when he dropped the malicious sticks of dynamites all around himself.

"Gokudera!" Only at the cry of his name from Yamamoto did he realised he was in danger. There was no way of escaping this. No matter how far he ran, he'd never be able to run out of the radius of his superior dynamite's explosions. Even the Disciplinary Committee were wisely retreating from him. There was... There was no hope?

And then, the idiot came crashing into him. He almost collided onto the floor at the baseballer's weight. Gokudera didn't have time to register the rising body heat when Yamamoto wrapped his arms tightly around him.

"Yama-Yamamoto! What are you doing!"

"I'll protect you Gokudera! You're an important friend!" Yamamoto shouted. "You're a foreigner!"

"Idiot! This way we'd both die!" Gokudera did not realise his slip of the tongue until now. "And by the way idiot meant 'good friend' in Italian."

Yamamoto squeezed Gokudera even tighter, almost breaking his ribs. "If I do this, you'll get less injured!"

"Wha-?" But Gokudera figured it must be fate to accept his end in such a degrading way. He closed his eyes, thinking about his mother, what she would do without him, and how his father would treat her, and would he go to heaven, and whether heaven would punish him for calling Yamamoto an idiot.

"RE-BORN!!" A charged voice came, snapping him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes. What? Is it... Is it for real? The respected Tenth of the Vongola Clan, wearing only his underwear? And... And... it's red?!

"Sawada-san...?!"

"EXTINGUISHING THE FLAMES LIKE I'M ABOUT TO DIE!" Tsuna declared, before hopping around the hissing dynamites in at super-human speed, smothering the fire out with his bare hands. Gokudera could only watch in awe as the fire gradually die out.

When all was done the flame on Tsuna's head died out automatically. He fell onto the ground as he rolled in pain, "Ow, ow, my hand, my hand, my hand!"

"Sawada...san..." Gokudera breathed, his eyes glowing as though he reached nirvana.

He didn't realise Yamamoto had let go of him until he heard his voice, "Hibari-san, Gokudera doesn't want to join the Disciplinary Committee, please leave him alone." He was willing to go all out, for his sake.

Hibari, who had appeared at the same time as Tsuna, retorted, "I have changed my view about him. He is still ultimately a herbivore who crowds with other weaklings. My committee has enough of that already. I take back my proposal." He turned around to walk away, disregarding the sight of his underlings moaning in pain on the floor.

"So, Gokudera-kun doesn't have to join the Disciplinary Committee?" Tsuna asked, sitting straight up.

Hibari replied, "I don't need weaklings."

A smile spread across Tsuna's face as his eyes lit up. He turned to Gokudera, forgetting about the pain in his palms. "That's great, Gokudera!"

But he was met with a Gokudera who bowed so low he literally stuck his forehead on the floor. "Please!" He shouted. If you don't like then don't do it, if you like then you do it. It's as simple as that. It's okay to do something for himself. "Please, let me be serve you as your right hand man, Vongola Jyuudaime! I... I have never experienced for myself the formidability of the rumoured Dying Will Flame of the Vongola!"

"Calling me Jyuu-Jyuudaime?" Tsuna exclaimed, surprised. "I-It wouldn't be good since you're in your father's clan or somethin-"

"My father's wish is only for me to become a top mafia. It is perfectly fine to do this, please rest assured!" Although Gokudera knew his father would blow the top at him finding such loopholes in his words, but that would be reserved for later.

A frantic Tsuna turned to Reborn, who told him nonchalantly, "You have collected another mafia member, Dame-Tsuna."

Tsuna sighed, and could only welcome him. While he had nothing against Gokudera at all, he would prefer having him, and Yamamoto, and the rest of the guardians actually, as friends. He didn't like to see them as his subordinates, since being a leader was way too stressful for him.

"You don't have to join!" Gokudera's moment was ruined by Yamamoto pouncing on him again. "I was so sad and depressed the past few days too because I was really worried about Gokudera! Haha!"

"You're worried about me?" Of course, he didn't need anyone to worry about him, much less an idiot. But he was just curious. Yes, curious.

Yamamoto nodded. "I couldn't even sleep, when I thought about Gokudera having quiffs! I couldn't help thinking to myself that quiffs really doesn't suit Gokudera, and how miserable you would be if you had a quiff. Thank goodness you don't have to now!"

So, this was what he was so uptight about.

You idiot, Yamamoto. In the midst of this sentence, came a weird, fuzzy feeling.

"Haha, Gokudera's my idiot too!"

"Hiee! Yamamoto!" Tsuna gasped at his rudeness.

"Tsuna's my idiot too!" He reeled the brunette in for another round of shoulder-hugging. "We're all idiots, aren't we!"

Gokudera couldn't believe he actually took advice from an idiot. (This time in its literal English term.) He was guiltily glad that people didn't know he was responsible for Yamamoto calling everyone an idiot in school, even the teachers... and Hibari... and the sumo wrestler fishing by the river.

* * *

A/N: Um, happy new year!....? So my new year was spent typing this, I lead too sad a life!

I hoped this chapter's funnier than usual! I separated this into two parts for easier reading, hope that worked out well!

(And yes, you may now shoot me for the Tsuna extinguishing Gokudera's bomb scene.)

Regarding the plot, I didn't plan for it to have action but it seems sort of unavoidable now? What do you guys think, action, or a fight-less but dramatic story? Please leave it in the reviews!

And I'm really, terribly sorry I haven't been able to reply to the reviews! I have no excuses, I was too plain lazy. I promise you my conscience will haunt me someday and I will reply you guys! I'm really sorry!

So thank you for reading and I hope you liked it! And please leave a review if you wish to donate to the homeless Sumo fishing by the river. :D

Just kidding!

No seriously.

(On Nigahiga crack. I love those guys. XP)


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